


to before, one small step at a time

by Molnija



Series: everything but you [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, although it gets significantly less angsty as time goes on, congratulations yamagata you win ... a car or something, welcome to episode 3 of 'what unlikely characters can i make akaashi friends with'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molnija/pseuds/Molnija
Summary: If finality has a sound, it’s the door falling shut next to him and the engine of the taxi starting up to take him a to place far away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to post this and then Ao3 died on me and now I have no idea what I said in the notes anymore. why. I think it was something along the lines of
> 
> this is less angst and more "realising you accidentally fucked up royally".
> 
> the title's shamelessly stolen from the Hibike! Euphonium soundtrack yo. although I've seen it translated as "one step forward at a time" but while my JP skills are nearly nonexistent, that's actually not how I'd translate it? I'm pretty sure it talks about going back, not going forward ...
> 
> if you're reading this but haven't read the first one in the series ... what are you doing you won't understand it go read that. or don't. I can't tell you what to do. I can only ask nicely. please? ;w;

If finality has a sound, it’s the door falling shut next to him and the engine of the taxi starting up to take him a to place far away.

“Regret” is a strange emotion to pin down, Keiji thinks, but what he’s feeling right now as he forces himself not to look out of the window at Tooru in front of their apartment building could be described as such – yet not strong enough to just say “screw it” and turn back around.

After everything they’ve talked about, he knows he shouldn’t.

And he doesn’t particularly want to, either, no matter how much it pulls him back home even though not a minute has passed until he left. It’s for his own sake as well as Tooru’s, for he is sure his boyfriend would beat himself up over keeping him from Aruka forever.

Or, well, his ex-boyfriend. Their relationship is now officially over.

His phone is sitting in his lap and it’s a challenge to not jam his code in and call him on the spot. Falling into his arms after a particularly bad day and sighing his name into his shoulder has always been easy, even back when they weren’t an official couple just yet. Leaving Tokyo means leaving home in more ways than one, and the hope that Aruka can provide him with something worthwhile to ease the pain is as strong as he can will it to be.

If he doesn’t keep it up high, he’ll start second-guessing the second he gets on that train with no ticket back.

He’s grateful the taxi driver isn’t asking him if he’s okay. If he did, he’d most likely start crying on the spot and drown in all the reasons he’s not.

Tooru meant everything to him, he still does, and leaving that beautiful, abstract yet stable thing they had behind for something as rational as a job offer sounds almost laughable even to his own ears, so saying it out loud could change things.

He assumes it’s like ripping out the wires connecting someone to a machine in a hospital when there’s no certainty if they can make it without them yet. It hurts, and it might end up doing him more harm than good, but the deed is done and he has to continue on his own now.

So he keeps staring at the street in front of him, forcing his breathing to stay calm and his expression to not betray a single thing.

 

* * *

 

His new place is provided by the agency and it kind of reminds him of a university dorm, a big house filled with apartments for him and his co-workers to live in. He’ll probably get something else soon, but for now he at least has a roof over his head, even though it’s not much.

The walls are white and unassuming, just like the bedsheets and the curtains, and there’s a light wooden desk standing at the big window for him to work on. They each have their own small bathroom and two closets to store not just clothes, but also other work-related things in, and that’s pretty much it.

Maybe it’s less of a dorm room and more of a hotel room, if he looks at it this way. It almost makes him forget he’s not just here for a week or so.

Keiji takes a deep breath before setting down his suitcase and unpacking the few things he brought.

He considered taking one or two of Tooru’s shirts, but thankfully decided against it, as he surely wouldn’t be able to handle that right now. If he wants this to work, he’ll need to let go as quickly as possible, and move on.

He thought he’d made peace with the idea, but something about the empty, soulless room and the clothes that smell like home proves otherwise, and all of a sudden it’s hardly possible to contain his shaking and heavy breathing in an attempt not to cry.

Somehow, he pulls himself together – he decided he shed all his tears back in Tokyo. Keiji always considered himself a fairly rational person, and there are few things less rational than breaking out into tears over something you can’t change anyway when that time would be better spent working against the pain to move on. It might be straining, but it’ll do him better in the long run, and while some might have allowed themselves to wallow in self-pity because he does, in fact, deserve it, he’d consider it counter-productive.

Tooru would hate for him to feel bad, and he owes him his hardest attempt to try and look ahead.

It isn’t like he suddenly stopped loving him, quite frankly he doubts he ever truly will, just because he decided to take this job offer. If anything, he went _because_ he loves him. He might not even have gone had it only been his own feelings on the plate, but Tooru wanted him to follow this opportunity just as desperately.

The thought makes him sick. _Don’t be so considerate!_ The words still echo in his mind and he can’t help but want to tell Tooru the same thing.

A part of him wanted for him to be selfish.

 

* * *

 

Keiji fights the urge to wipe his eyes upon seeing the person in front of him, someone extremely familiar and by far the last person he expected to see at Aruka.

But there’s no mistaking it, the man before his eyes is without a doubt Yamagata Hayato, former libero of Shiratorizawa. He’s last seen him in his second year of high school, but his receives were responsible for quite a few of Bokuto’s breakdowns, so he wouldn’t forget him, even if his hair is significantly less spiky nowadays. He was nowhere near as in-your-face as Ushijima or Tendou – he really doesn’t miss the latter’s blocks – but if your ace keeps getting dejected because that annoying opponent libero keeps picking up his spikes, you’ll start remembering him.

Yamagata on the other hand seems to have no idea who he is, as he introduces himself formally and explains his role as if they were total strangers. Though technically he’s not wrong, they’ve never talked.

“I’ll be trying to help you settle in as fast as possible, so if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask me. I can give you my phone number as well …” He reaches into his pocket and frowns. “Or I could, if I had my phone.”

 _Incredibly professional_ , Keiji thinks. Yamagata truly doesn’t seem to remember him though, but he knows he was never considered as flashy of a setter as people like Miya or Kageyama. Even Tooru was only vaguely familiar to him before they met, he saw him in _Volleyball Monthly_ once or twice but never spared him much thought. He seemed to be quite popular in Miyagi though, and that popularity spread throughout the nation once they made nationals in university. Now that he’s on the national team, even more people will know him.

“Akaashi?”

He shakes his head lightly and clears his throat. “Uh, sorry. I spaced out.”

Right, no thinking of Tooru anymore. _Banish him from your mind and focus on your work. The sooner you get that all in the past, the better._

“No big deal, I know it’s kinda overwhelming at first,” Yamagata says with a friendly smile that kind of reminds him of Konoha. “As far as I heard, you were offered this pretty suddenly, so it’ll take a while for you to settle in, I guess.”

“I applied for Tokyo, so switching the prefecture is sudden, yes.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Must be a huge change then. Did you have to leave anything important behind?”

Oh, nothing much. Just the relationship with the man he loves. “There were … Sacrifices. But I’m grateful for the opportunity.”

They keep up a little bit of small-talk as Yamagata shows him around the office building, explaining that he’ll most likely won’t use it that often, since most of their photographing work is done in separate studios and wherever the client wants to have them. It’s very different from the internship in a small studio in Tokyo he had in his second year of university.

They are standing in a copying room when Yamagata finally asks, “Sorry if this is weird, but have I met you before? You look familiar.”

“High school volleyball nationals,” Keiji immediately answers, glad to finally have this off his chest. He didn’t just want to interrupt his tour, as it’s clearly more important. “I was Fukurodani’s setter when you were in your third year.”

It’s almost comical how his eyes widen at the realisation, and if this was a comic, there’d be a lightbulb appearing over his head now. “Of course. Fukurodani’s pretty setter. I’m stupid.”

‘Pretty setter’? He hasn’t heard that one in a while. Mostly the setter part. He has grown quite confident in his own appearance thanks to Tooru’s insistence on him being quote-unqoute “more beautiful than me, which is totally unfair, by the way”. He wouldn’t go that far, though.

But again, he has to keep Tooru out of this. So far he hasn’t been doing a particularly stellar job.

“Who would have thought?” he muses, more to himself. The world is a small place after all.

“God, it’s so nice to have someone from volleyball here, it’s been way too long.” Yamagata laughs and Keiji decides he likes him, at least he seems like someone he’d like to be friends with, something he probably needs.

He didn’t just leave Tooru behind, after all. Most of his friends live in Tokyo, and he knows nobody around here. Bokuto at least knows about what happened, he called him as soon as he got on the train, so he hopes their friendship won’t take too big of a hit, but he isn’t foolish enough not to believe it will be different.

“Are you still playing, Yamagata-san?”

“Whenever I can … So not often.” He sighs, looking somewhat sad. “I miss it, but work’s taking a lot of time and energy.”

“I can imagine.” From everything he’s gathered, he works in the management area, which must be a pain at a company as big as Aruka. If he was a third year when Keiji was a second year, he’s only a year older than him too, and probably doesn’t have much authority yet.

“What about you?”

He – doesn’t know, really. Back at Tokyo he played at university, and later practiced with Tooru and the neighbourhood team from time to time, nothing too serious, but it might be very different in Kyoto. When he doesn’t answer, Yamagata smiles. “There’s an open gym nearby that I go to sometimes, maybe I can take you on Saturday? If you want. I was planning to go anyway, but it’d be a good way for you to make some friends.”

“I …” If he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t feel like it. Going back to volleyball so soon would just remind him of Tooru, which is the last thing he wants. But Yamagata’s right, he should start meeting people and making friends quickly, and he does like playing. With as much of a smile as he can muster, he says, “I’d love to.”

 

* * *

 

 

The gym Yamagata was talking about is big, but not half as full as he would have imagined. A few groups here and there are warming up or playing on one of the many courts, but that’s it, and there’s plenty of space.

It’s very different from their public gym back in Tokyo, which, as far as he knows, used to belong to a school that closed down. This one’s modern, sparkly, technical, and much more reminiscent of one of those private gyms where you can rent a court for an hour or two.

It’s … Kind of like the ones they had their tournaments in.

Yamagata introduces him to a group of people, some of whom he vaguely recalls from university nationals, although he’s never talked to any of them. They warm up quickly and start by playing without points, trying to keep the ball up in the air as long as possible. Later they go for points anyway, and Keiji gets to play setter again like he used to, and it’s some semblance of fun.

The people seem nice enough and he tries to socialise, he really does, but finds it’s much easier to sit and listen during their breaks. He knows he shouldn’t sink back into his comfort zone like this if he ever wants to create a proper peer group but can’t help it.

They remind him of their university team, in a way. There’s a spiker that gets overly enthusiastic like Bokuto, and a middle blocker who’s fairly short but still good, like Hinata, a libero that keeps the louder ones in line, like Yaku …

There’s nobody similar to Tooru though. Maybe he’s supposed to fill that role now, considering how much he learned from him.

But he could never be like him, both on the court and off it. If he was like Tooru, he’d be in the middle of these guys, thriving off their attention and talking about his achievements with rightful confidence. He can almost see him, setting the ball for them in ways Keiji certainly couldn’t, because he’s both more skilled and better at people. He’s hit a few of his tosses himself, and anyone who says he isn’t a genius should reevaluate their thoughts on the matter, because he might not be a volleyball genius like Kageyama, but Keiji would consider him a social genius if nothing else.

It was what initially made him fall for him. In hindsight, that was kind of dumb. He’s glad he came to love the man behind all of it, the one that allowed himself to be vulnerable at his side, and trusted him to the utmost because he knew Keiji would do the same.

Tooru would love this place, he thinks.

“Uh, Akaashi-kun? Are you okay?”

He looks up at the person who said it, a female wing spiker whose name he can’t remember. He tries to say something but nothing comes out, and it’s only when he blinks that he realises he’s crying.

“Obviously not, you idiot,” someone hisses and Keiji shakes his head, carefully, before wiping off the tears with his hands, but it doesn’t really work and they won’t stop coming, no matter what he does. It’s not that he’s feeling particularly depressed, but something inside him is revolting, fighting against him in that quest for control he’s ordered himself to go on.

Yamagata hands him a tissue and he takes it with hands shaking too much for his liking, and when he trusts himself to speak again, he slowly and quietly says with a wavering voice, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what …” He takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. “It hasn’t been long since I left Tokyo, and I miss …” _Tooru._ “Home.”

With this group of people, almost exclusively older than him, gathered around him all worried, he feels like a first year in junior high who panicked because he couldn’t find his classes and had to be rescued by a teacher. It’s only one more unwelcome feeling on top of the whole bunch he’s already experiencing, so he almost doesn’t mind.

“Oh, I’ve been there,” the libero that reminded him of Yaku mutters with a frown on his face. “But my girlfriend came with me, so it wasn’t all bad.”

“Well, my boyfriend didn’t,” Keiji quietly shoots back with more of an edge than he intended, and an awkward silence falls over the group.

He should have never come here.

Before anyone can say anything else, he stands up and quickly leaves the gym, only stopping at the back wall of the changing room. _You’re so strong_ , Tooru used to say, and he shakes his head, huffing out a small, joyless laugh.

“Strong?” he mutters into the empty room, his words echoing back from the metal lockers. “I’m pathetic, Tooru.”

Nobody answers.

 

* * *

 

Work passes by him, mostly.

Once he’s settled into a steady rhythm, he just lets it happen, and he thinks he might appreciate it someday when he finally gets over this relationship, but right now he couldn’t even tell anyone what he’s doing.

It shows in his photos. He’s mostly working for online clients with unsuccessful websites and too much money to spare so far, and they’re enough for those, but ultimately soulless. He can’t stand looking at them for longer than he absolutely has to.

Sometimes he goes out to eat with Yamagata and a co-worker named Misaki Hana who lives just below him, and it always reminds him he wanted to go and get a proper apartment of his own, but he can’t quite motivate himself to do something about it. He doesn’t hate his current place, anyway. It’s impersonal enough not to remind him of anything.

Overall, he knows he can do better, he just can’t be bothered to focus.

If he was Tooru, he’d throw himself into his work and give it his all to distract himself from the pain, but he’s not Tooru, and he’s never functioned well when he forces himself to. This is … Safe, if nothing else.

‘Safe’ wasn’t exactly what he went to Kyoto for, but it’ll have to make do for now.

“Do they really _need_ us to do this?” Misaki grumbles over her computer screen on the other side of the cafeteria table. Technically they’re on break, but that usually means checking the assigments. “Why can’t they just use stock photos? It would be easier, and cheaper, and less annoying for all of us.”

“Someone has to provide stock photos as well,” Keiji muses, but he’s not paying much attention. He’ll need to tell someone that the location they wanted the private shooting in had to be rescheduled, because apparently it can’t be any other parking lot, it has to be this specific one. Why do they want a parking lot in the first place?

Misaki sighs. “I guess. Still, I can’t believe we’re stuck with this just because we’re new …”

What did she expect? Getting the big, important assignments right from the get-go? He doesn’t know about her, but so far he’s hardly done anything to impress the higher-ups.

It’s a bit frustrating because he knows he can do better, though. And their commissions are fun, provide some sort of variety already, and are well-received by their clients and superiors alike. He could enjoy this so much more and, in turn, create so much better content.

That’s just something he’ll need to grow into, he supposes. Perhaps it’s because none of his jobs up till now has struck a chord with him, it’s all been fairly generic. He’s always considered himself more of a landscape photographer than a portraitist, so maybe he just needs something that resonates with his preferences more.

At least that’s what he likes to tell himself.

In many ways, it’s stupid. He’s lived without Tooru just fine before he met him. He can bounce back if he tries long and hard enough, and eventually, he’ll be okay. It can’t possibly be that this is affecting him as much as the death of his cousin – Tooru’s still alive and well, if he really wanted to he could see him again.

Or maybe not. He does want to, after all, but he knows he can’t. Returning now, besides throwing all of the chances he came here for out of the window, would be like losing horribly and it wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

He wants to believe Tooru is feeling just as bad, even though it’s a selfish thought.

“Akaashi!” someone calls for him and when he looks up, one of his superiors is hurrying toward their table. He can’t remember their name, something starting with M, perhaps? His memory’s failing him, if he ever tried to memorise it in the first place. They hold out a sheet of paper to him and, with hardly any trace of emotion in their voice, say, “Hirano can’t do this one, so they said to give it to you. It’s soon, but you’re free that day.”

“Ah yes,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t have any idea what they’re talking about. Keiji quickly skims over the paper until he gets stuck at a certain line that catches his interest. He can see Misaki cock her head at him in his peripheral vision and narrows his eyes. “It’s for a travel magazine. They want us to capture the spirit of Kyoto.”

It’s an extremely free task, albeit challenging, and it might not be technically _landscapes_ but still very much in the area of work he feels most comfortable with.

Is this the one he’s been looking for?

“Hirano-san, Hirano-san …” Misaki muses. “All I knows is he’s been doing this for a while. I think I’ve heard people say he’s really good, and he doesn’t get stuck with the standard things like we do … And you’re supposed to stand in for him? That’s amazing!”

His knowledge of the workplace is laughably non-existent, but if that’s true, this is a big opportunity. He can only guess they chose him because of the portfolio he sent in, back when he still had some sort of confidence and soul in his work – it means he can’t butcher this chance, but if he’s able to make something good out of it …

This is kind of exciting.

 

* * *

 

By the time he finally goes to bed that evening, the clock shows 3 AM and perhaps staying up until late brainstorming wasn’t that good of an idea, but he felt inspired and what can he do when inspiration strikes? Especially considering how rare it is lately. He’s fairly proud of the concept he’s thought up, now he only needs to get it approved tomorrow, or, well, later today.

He drops onto his mattress and stares at the ceiling for a while, his mind full of what he hopes captures the spirit of the prefecture while still following the limitations he has been given, and doesn’t feel tired at all. If anything, today was somewhat exhilarating, and that usually means he’s either exhausted or so energised he could pull an all-nighter.

(Keiji knows he shouldn’t, as attempting the latter more often than not leads to him passing out during the day, but he can’t help the temptation.)

With a sigh, he turns to his side, focusing on the wall as his eyes don’t seem to want to close. This still doesn’t feel in any way like home and he doubts it ever will. ‘Home’ would need stupid paintings Bokuto gave him for Christmas on the walls, and a worn-down kitchen table with burn marks from when he accidentally knocked over a candle, and a warm bed with fluffy bedsheets and more pillows than anyone would need because Tooru insisted he couldn’t sleep with less.

He can’t decide if this bed is too small or if any bigger one would feel even worse, knowing that the empty spot next to him should be inhabited by his boyfriend, just a few centimetres away so he can easily roll over and cuddle with him.

Keiji raises a hand to his heart and balls his fist over it, pulling at his shirt as if that would do anything to ease his heartache. It doesn’t, of course, and the former elation has faded completely, leaving nothing behind.

Before he knows what he’s doing his phone is in his hand, and he scrolls down his contacts to find Tooru, only stopping himself when his thumb is hovering over the call button.

“What am I doing?” he whispers into the empty room.

He should have deleted that number as soon as he got away, but the thought never even occurred. Granted, he does have it memorised, but it would be much more of a safety net. Actually typing it in is different from just tapping a button.

And what would he say, anyway? _I miss you? It’s not the same without you? Please come back?_

But Tooru never left. If anyone needs to come back, it’s Keiji.

Despite knowing it’s not true, and the break-up was mutual, and they talked about this, and they made their choices in order for the other to be happy, he can’t help but feel as if he majorly screwed up with this one.

But now it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t _matter_.

He needs to get some sleep and possibly restart Operation Not Thinking About Tooru. That has gone absolutely terrible so far.

It takes two more hours for him to sink into a dreamless slumber.

 

* * *

 

He arrives to plan out the article and photos with the magazine staff almost dead where he stands, and somehow he manages to convince them of his concept despite being so tired he nearly falls asleep at the table several times.

Thankfully, he’s mostly on break for the rest of the day, and after a nap too long to technically be considered one, he feels at least some sort of refreshed.

One of his clients had to move back the appointment they’d set for today, which he can very much appreciate, and when he comes back to the office to clear some things with the management, Yamagata invites him to go eat out. He accepts, mostly because Yamagata seems to know a lot of people where they usually eat, which usually means discounts, and because he’s decided he’ll start properly distracting himself.

This is his life now. He’ll have to get used to it eventually.

Their usual place is a small, family-run diner that’s always well visited, but never too packed. The pork cutlet bowl they make is especially good, so he orders it without much thought, and for a while they just chat about work and Keiji’s project, Yamagata giving him some pretty good tips on how to execute it. He might be in management, but he obviously knows a thing or two about photography and design.

After a while, though, he asks, “You okay? You’ve been looking kinda down.”

He’s half tempted to answer with _that’s just my face_ , but he’s not in the mood for joking. Although it is true, people have told him he looks pissed off. “It’s nothing,” he says instead, and he doesn’t want to lie, so he adds, “I’m still missing home, is all.”

Memories of that day in the gym creep up, memories he successfully repressed up until now. He tries his best not to pay them any mind.

“Really? I know it can be hard, I mean, leaving Miyagi was really difficult, and I didn’t leave a relationship behind.” He says it slowly, carefully, as if trying to figure out how much is okay. Yamagata seems to be a good person, and Keiji supposes he can’t blame him for being worried, even if he’s shaking up things _again_. Because he apparently can never catch a break from this. If he’s alone, he starts overthinking. If he’s with the person he’d most consider his friend, or acquaintance at least, at Aruka, he gets asked about it.

But maybe that’s a sign. Maybe he’s been approaching this all wrong. Maybe he _has_ to talk about it.

It’s a tempting thought, just pulling out everything and throwing it on the table. Repressing emotions isn’t usually how he deals, he’s much better at analysing them.

So he sighs, takes a deep breath, and says, “It’s … Pretty bad.”

He’s almost taken aback by how true it is, now that he’s finally said it out loud.

“We didn’t mean to break up, but he got scouted for the national team, which trains in Tokyo. Originally I wasn’t planning on going, but we both decided it would be best not to throw away this opportunity. It was my dream, after all.”

What a stupid train of thought. Yes, Aruka was his dream, still is, but he was living a completely different one by being with Tooru. That wasn’t worth less to him.

“So I left, and he didn’t, and I can’t even do my best at work because I keep thinking of him even though I don’t want to. It’s not that it’s impossible to be without him, but I’m only just realising just how much easier he made it all.”

And there it is. That one small thing he couldn’t quite pinpoint is now in front of him. _He made it so much easier._ If that makes Keiji a weak person for craving it, then so be it.

They’re silent for a moment, and he almost thinks he maybe said too much, he’s not that close to Yamagata anyway, dumping this whole story on him is probably overwhelming and he can’t even properly cry, he’s not sure how he feels about any of this—

“Do you regret it? Coming to Kyoto, I mean.”

When he looks up, Yamagata’s face is serious and genuine, so much so he almost asks him why he doesn’t seem to pity him like people would usually do.

Does he?

Of course he’d regret leaving Tooru behind. But does he regret taking this opportunity? He hasn’t been here for long, it’s been a good two months, but was it worth it so far?

Does he regret it?

“I’m … I don’t …”

Know.

He’d say he needs time to think about it, but a subtle feeling in himself is saying that’s just a weak excuse. He’ll never know, because these two things are equally important to him and whatever he does he does wrong.

When he first received the offer back in their apartment in Tokyo, his knee-jerk reaction was to say no. Surely, some job offer that wasn’t even guaranteed to work out in his favour in the end wasn’t worth giving up the stability and comfort his relationship offered him. Of course he _wanted_ to go, but he would eventually have been fine with not having gone. It was only because of his constant overthinking he even got to the conclusion he’d leave.

Usually, he prefers to think things through before doing them. Jumping head-first into something is the kind of thing that Bokuto would do, but when you’re friends with that guy for longer than two years you learn to balance that out, and he was a rational person to begin with. Tooru is a perfect fit for him because he’s similar to that in many ways, but still retains some sort of optimism and most of the time has a very good sense for which risks should be taken, something that Keiji tends to lack.

It was one of the reasons he left so abruptly, and refused Tooru to bring him to the train station, because he would have ended up overthinking it again and ending up all conflicted. That way, he’d have never gotten to a proper conclusion.

But maybe it wasn’t the job offer. If he’d refused it immediately instead of letting it hang in the air like that because secretly he couldn’t make up his damn mind, things would have turned out completely different. The overthinking probably came from that, not the fact that he got it in the first place.

And yet, ripping off the band-aid in the other scenario, the one that he chose, did nothing but leave a long-lasting sting and a wound not yet healed.

_Do you regret it?_

“I think I do,” he whispers and finally the tears start falling.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t remember much of how he got home, and he blames it on the fact that his brain has taken to trying and erase embarrassing memories, such as starting to cry in the middle of a relatively full diner, or telling his co-worker and likely superior (not that he knows where in the hierarchy Yamagata is supposed to be) that he’d rather be unemployed in Tokyo instead of working his dream job at his company.

Keiji feels empty now that he finally properly broke, leaning on his desk looking out at the night sky without much purpose. Tooru might be looking at the same sky right now, considering how he loves the stars.

Or maybe he’s in bed like a reasonable person.

He frowns at his own thoughts and shakes his head to get rid of them. No more ‘maybe’. ‘Maybe’ has done him more harm than good. What he has to focus on are the facts in front of him.

While the hollowness in his heart remains, he also feels strangely lighter than before. Internalising all of this, he realises now, has only made it worse, and Yamagata has shown he can tell him about it to get rid of the baggage. Knowing what exactly it is he feels about their break-up and where exactly he’s standing now has cleared his head far more than trying to ignore or battle that indistinguishable mush of emotions growing inside him like a trash heap he keeps throwing more and more garbage onto.

Dumping all of that garbage on his acquaintances doesn’t sound like the nicest thing to do, but it has worked wonders.

For the first time in a while, he can focus, even if he’s not putting it to work right now. He’s supposed to be doing his shootings for the magazine tomorrow and the day after that he has another portrait session with a truly obnoxious older woman, so nothing too bad, but he’s looking forward to it anyway.

He’s motivated.

Because he’s decided on a new goal, and it’s a bit sudden and out of the blue but he has to stop thinking about these things too much, so he repeats it to himself, quietly. “I’ll give them my absolute best, and as soon as possible, I’ll apply to be relocated to Tokyo.”

It’s a tad bit rude, perhaps, considering he was denied Tokyo, but sometimes you need to be rude.

_Do you regret it?_

Yes, he does, but if he has the opportunity to both get back with Tooru and stay at Aruka, he’ll take it. And if he doesn’t?

He’ll make one.

Well, that might sound better in his head than in reality, and certainly won’t be easy, but he graduated with almost perfect grades, he had several internships and part-time jobs at fairly renowned companies, and he’s just been given an assignment initially meant for someone who is considered better than him by pretty much everyone. He can do this.

Tooru made the national team, and Keiji thought that Aruka was his own goal, but he’s starting to understand that’s not it. It’s part of it, sure, but it’s not complete if he’s on his own.

And if he gets back to Tokyo and the very real possibility of Tooru having moved on and being with someone else proves to be true … He’ll get him back. Somehow. He’s not good at that sort of thing and their relationship only ever started because their mutual pining became impossible to ignore, but he’ll learn if he has to.

First he has to sleep though, and he sighs, his gaze falling on his phone on the desk. He still hasn’t deleted his number. And now, he doesn’t feel the need to anymore.

It’s time to start fixing things.

 

* * *

 

‘Fixing things’ gets really difficult when someone suddenly calls you and some other new photographers into a meeting out of the blue, with no real explanation.

He hasn’t received feedback on his photos for the magazine yet, but it doesn’t seem to be about that.

The woman at the front wastes no time to quickly scribble something on the whiteboard in red (from what he’s gathered, that’s because the black pen isn’t working). She’s hiding most of it, but he thinks he sees something vaguely resembling a family tree.

“I’m sorry this is sudden,” she says and turns around so quickly, the pen goes flying and almost hits the person sitting closest to her in the face. “Oh, sorry! You alright?”

They nod, pale from the shock.

“Alright, so …” She clears her throat. “My name is Ikari Saaya, and I used to work here but recently left to set up my own little company. It’s called Rizumia, maybe you’ve heard about it.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar.

“Now, Aruka was nice enough to offer me their support, since we’re really lacking photographers right now … I decided to ask for you younger folk, because I want the company to be fresh. Ah, but basically, Aruka and Rizumia have decided to start working together some more, so this probably won’t be the last you see of me, but most importantly I’m asking for a tiiiny bit of help.”

It’s very obvious Ikari, despite her professional looking pantsuit, has no idea how to lead a meeting. It reminds him of Bokuto.

“Now I’m not saying you’ll all have to start working at Rizumia! But we’ll probably start splitting up our jobs soon, and we do need some more people to help out … Permanently, I mean. Aruka still handles the payment, so you don’t have to worry about that, and we’re still working together closely … But maybe our topics interest you more? Maybe?” She ends on a literal high note and a pleading smile.

“What kind of topics are those?” someone asks from the back row, and she gives him a shaky laugh.

“Oh, I should have probably mentioned that! Uhm, we’re focusing on magazines, mostly for travel and sports!”

Oh.

That’s exactly Keiji’s preference. Travel ensures lots of landscape photography, and sports is just plain exciting, especially when it’s for sports he personally likes, like volleyball or badminton.

Furthermore, if the payment won’t change, but the company is smaller and led by someone like this, who reminds him of one of his closest friends, he can’t help but be tempted …

But if he switched, that would mean he could kiss his chances of going back to Tokyo while still staying with the agency goodbye.

Just to be sure, he raises his hand. “Where exactly does the company sit?”

“Very nearby! Almost exactly in the city centre, we were lucky enough to get a really central office building. Wait …” Ikari scribbles the exact address on the whiteboard.

Oh well, there goes that plan.

But he’ll still be able to help out, right?

Most people leave directly after the meeting, but he and three others stay back to ask Ikari some more questions. When it’s finally his turn, he doesn’t quite know what it is he wants to say, though.

“Uh,” he starts lamely, then clears his throat. “I’d be very interested in helping you, but it kind of … Interferes with my plans. I want to leave the prefecture as soon as possible, so I can’t really permanently stay. Is there still anything I can do to help?”

He can’t deny he wants it – it sounds like an even better deal than Aruka. Rizumia might not be as fancy, but working for someone famous was never his end goal; he chose Aruka for the freedom they offer. Rizumia seems to handle it similarly, just with a focus that interests him far more than his current jobs, and sadly the lack of options to relocate to Tokyo.

God, it would be perfect if it wasn’t for that.

“Oh,” Ikari says and her smile falls. “That’s a shame. You’re Akaashi Keiji, right? I’ve seen your portfolio when I was still working here, I think you’d be perfect with us. You applied for Tokyo though, didn’t you?”

So that’s where she used to work. Management, probably. He’s surprised she’d remember the prefecture though, or even his name or what he looks like. “Yes, and I’d like to return there.”

“Yes, the switch was kind of sudden … And probably my fault,” she adds after a second and smiles at him apologetically. “I left shortly after, but I really liked your photos. I wanted you on the team … And then the Rizumia plan started taking off, so I never got to meet you in person. I’m glad it worked out, even if you want to go back. Don’t you like it here?”

“I do,” he says earnestly, “but I had to make some sacrifices that in hindsight I regret a lot. That’s why I want to stay at Aruka, I do want to continue working for the agency, but the location is … A bit off.”

“Shame … You’d fit right in with our concept.” Ikari sighs, then shakes her head and her smile grows more genuine. “But you can still work for us, I did say we’re splitting up the work. You could technically stay at Aruka, but still take most of your jobs from Rizumia, until you can go back to Tokyo. How about it? You’d only officially be part of Aruka and you would still be judged by their executives, but in practice you’d work with Rizumia for a while. And if you don’t like it, you can still quit without consequences.”

That … Sounds good. Really good. Almost perfect, even. He tries not to sound too excited when he answers, “I’d love that.”

He just hopes he won’t get too attached.

 

* * *

 

If Aruka is well-scheduled and practical, Rizumia is hectic to say the least.

Next to the office building is a studio that reminds him of his internships. It turns out they do still do portrait photography, but that’s only on the side to bring in a bit more money, while the true heart of the agency is exactly what Ikari – or Saaya, as she established a strict first-name-only policy – advertised. Within only two weeks of starting to help out there, he already had three chances to work with the local football and tennis teams, and one that reminds him a lot of the Spirit of Kyoto one.

The company is small indeed, maybe a bit too small, and can barely keep up with the amount of assignments they’re getting, but they always seem to manage in the end. He likes their work as well, there’s no trace of the stress they’re all constantly under, and most of all it seems lively.

Rizumia is exhausting, stressful, a bit randomly thrown together, and managed in a way that makes it obvious they’re a new company with lots to learn.

Keiji _loves_ it.

He drops into his bed every night, exhausted, but content, knowing that today was another day of getting things done, and well.

Aruka was what he wanted, but Rizumia offers all of that, but more cramped together, more tightly knit, faster, and more familiar. He doesn’t quite have the same artistic freedom but he finds he doesn’t even need it, because this is _fun_.

And it shows. He’s proud of his work lately, and the higher-ups at Aruka have seem to taken a liking to it as well, going so far as to compliment him during lunch or when they see him in the hallways when he’s there.

This is exactly what he needed, and if Tooru was here, he’d be happy with him.

If only, if _only_ they could branch out to Tokyo. Granted, there’d be no guarantee it would be just as good, considering that a lot of what he likes about the agency is thanks to Saaya’s makeshift management, but when he looks at the other few people up there, he can imagine it wouldn’t be all that different. Everyone who works there does it because they want to.

He so desperately wants to share this with Tooru.

 

* * *

 

“Keiji-kun!”

He flinches at his desk, rapidly turning his head to the man panting in his doorframe. He’s one of his co-workers at Rizumia, Akagi Crys, but he’s not employed by Aruka, so what is he doing here? How did he even get in? They tend to be really strict as to who they’re letting into the Aruka office building.

“Crys,” he answers, a bit confused. “Is something wrong?”

“Is something _wrong_? No! Something is _right_! I mean, that’s what Saaya-san said, and that you should come to her office. Like, right now. I have no idea what she’s talking about but it sounds urgent.”

Wait, something is ‘right’?

He exchanges a glance with Misaki and gets up from his desk chair, his computer still turned on. He considers turning it off but Crys has already grabbed his wrist and is pulling him out of the room.

In the hallway, they bump into many people, seeing how Crys won’t let go of him no matter how much he protests, and when he passes Yamagata he wants to shrug but doesn’t even have the time for that before they’re out of the door.

Seriously, what is this about? Has Saaya found the cure for cancer or what? And why would he care? Well, obviously he would _care_ , but he doesn’t have anything to do with that …

Crys keeps him in the dark for the entire, albeit short, train ride and he’s probably never been this confused in his entire life.

That is, until the two of them hurry into the office, Saaya turns around and her eyes widen, almost gasping out, “Keiji! There you are! Good job, Crys!”

He doesn’t know what to say, but she wouldn’t let him speak anyway, so he just remains silent.

“We’ve just gotten in a super great deal! There’s this new sports magazine that wants us in, and their first big story is about the national volleyball team!”

Wait.

“In Tokyo!”

What?

“So obviously I said, ‘I’m sorry, but we’re in Kyoto, we can’t do that’, I mean, since we don’t have a branch in Tokyo or anything but then I thought … What if we made one? We’ve been going strong lately, and I’m planning to get a few more people on board, and I was afraid it might get crowded but if we branch out that’s two birds with one stone!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t follow,” he says, because he genuinely has no idea what she’s talking about. Branching out to Tokyo? Working with the national volleyball team?

The very same national volleyball team that Tooru happens to play on?

“And I was thinking because you said you wanted to go back to Tokyo, but you also wanted to work with Rizumia, wouldn’t it be perfect?”

Wouldn’t it? Of course it would, or it could if she finally gave him some time to process all of the information she’s currently shoving into his face.

“The staff would be mostly new but I do want some familiar faces over at that hypothetical branch and … Photography-wise, you’re one of our best, so it’d be sad to see you go but you could also lead the way over there! Not literally, but. With the Kyoto Rizumia spirit.”

Where’s the catch in this? There’s got to be a catch.

Saaya is out of breath but finally seems like she’s done talking, so he slowly begins, “So … I should work at a new branch in Tokyo?”

“If you want to,” she says with the biggest smile he’s ever seen on … Anyone, really.

If he wants to. Work at Tokyo. With the national team. With _Tooru_.

No, seriously, there has to be a catch.

 

* * *

 

How do you tell your ex-boyfriend you’re back in the prefecture, probably permanently, so the whole break-up can be undone and they can both achieve the happy ending they frankly deserve?

… Well, probably just like that, but Keiji finds it’s really difficult to actually say it out loud.

He’d very much appreciate if he could go to one of his practices to talk it out in person, as he thinks a phone call would be very impersonal, but he simply doesn’t have the time. Heck, he didn’t even have the time to search for a place to stay yet, as their old apartment is now inhabited by someone else completely and he expected it to sting more than it does.

Nothing really hurts right now. He’s stressed and overworked beyond belief but it’s not half bad.

As soon as they properly settle in, he’s going to have the time to finally set things right, but as of now, his top priority is to help get the Tokyo branch of Rizumia up and running, and by the time he falls into his hotel bed late at night, he’s so tired he immediately falls asleep.

The magazine they’re working with is called _Service Ace_ , painfully ironic and kind of unfitting for a general sports magazine instead of a volleyball-only one, but their first issue that came out a month ago wasn’t half bad. They got interviews with the national league’s number one basketball team, some actually viable tips, and a surprising lack of ads.

It’s been two weeks and the management has already accepted an intern into their newly formed graphic design department, an obvious sign that this is going to be just as chaotic as the Kyoto branch, and while he should probably be mad, he just finds it endearing. They’re incompetent and he loves them.

Especially when he finds out who that intern is.

“Yachi-san,” he says without meaning to when she first enters the door, visibly shaking. When she sees him, her eyes widen, and her trembling ebbs off a bit.

“Aka… Akaashi-san?”

It’s been a while since he’s last seen her. She was attending their last match versus Ennoshita’s university, and if he remembers correctly she’s a fourth year right now, studying graphic design. Tooru never talked to her too much, but Keiji always found her pretty fun to interact with, even if she gets scared easily. Kind of like Karasuno’s former ace, Azumane.

He’d really like some time to catch up with her but he simply doesn’t have it, as he somehow got pulled into a more managing kind of position than any photographer should have, but he’s pretty good at rational stuff, so he doesn’t mind it. That’s how they always worked at Fukurodani – let Bokuto do the social work and Keiji the one you need to think about.

Speaking of Bokuto, he’s going to see him again as well, and Kuroo, and maybe Kageyama and Hinata and everyone else from university who’s stayed here, and his _mother_.

It’s only slowly settling in that he’s back home.

 

* * *

 

He still can’t quite believe he’s been here for a month, until October 23rd to be exact, and the day of the shooting is here and he still hasn’t had the time to meet Tooru. He hasn’t even gotten around to texting anyone that he’s back other than his mother – he’s currently staying with her as well, as if he was still a student –, but then again, he wants to make it a surprise.

Though he’s getting very impatient.

He’s almost late, as Saaya called him with some more work details earlier, but he ends up making it just in time, as the others are already setting things up, and— Wait a second, did Yachi just trip over a cable? Is she okay? He wants to run to her to make sure she’s fine, but someone taps his shoulder and his attention is already taken away again by a malfunctioning camera.

He only stops in his tracks when he hears the captain of the team shout for them to start running, and suddenly a shiver runs down his spine, and his hands start shaking, clinging to the camera as if it was a lifeline.

If Tooru sees him right now – right in the middle of all of these people as if he was hiding from him or couldn’t be bothered to tell him he was back or just didn’t care for him anymore or or or …

He takes a step toward the court anyway, just behind the metal dividers separating them from the players, and he sees Tooru in the middle of the group immediately, face distant, his mind somewhere else, obviously worn down but still so beautiful—

He needs to get away.

He needs to leave or he’ll fuck this over even though he couldn’t do a thing— Precisely _because_ he couldn’t—

Tooru’s coming in his direction, and suddenly, their eyes meet.

He stops running just as Keiji stops breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> there's probably going to be a sequel to tie this all up? probably? I can't stand to see them apart like this theY'RE TOO PRECIOUS TO ME;;;;;;;; (also I want to write more Rizumia. they were never supposed to be this adorably incompetent but now they are and I love them.)
> 
> occasional reminder that while I don't like asking for comments (I have no problem with it, I just don't like doing it. it feels weird), I do run on them. comments, I mean. so if you're on the fence of whether or not you want to comment, consider: there's no downside to commenting, ever. there is a downside to not commenting. sad alpacas. wait what
> 
> hq!! tumblr: akaashi-tooru.tumblr.com/ scream with me about whatever, preferrably Akaoi but I'm not picky


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